


ain't nothing like them summer nights

by liroa15



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-20 10:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liroa15/pseuds/liroa15
Summary: Connor's got one boyfriend for home and one boyfriend for away, and somehow they're all making it work. Together. Away from it all.





	ain't nothing like them summer nights

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [PuckingRare2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2019) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Poly goodness. Connor has his work boyfriend and his home boyfriend and sometimes they're all together and that's the best.
> 
> (no mpreg, preferably no abo, just like normal hockey bros in poly love)

Connor’s sitting out and watching the sun set over the lake with a half empty beer bottle in one hand when Dylan’s laughing form appears in the door. “Davo,” he calls. He sounds more than a little bit drunk and happier than Connor’s heard him in a long time.

“Yeah?” Connor calls back, tearing his eyes away from the brilliant sky to look back at the brilliant boy—man now—calling to him. 

“Are you gonna come in any time soon, or are you going to stay out there and get eaten alive by the mosquitos?” Dylan asks, giggling. “Because I can think of a few ways to make that happen that would be a lot more fun than bugs.”

Connor looks back at the sun and the water and downs the rest of his beer before getting up from his chair. “Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

“Damn straight,” Dylan agrees, and then grabs Connor and pulls him into a kiss. 

“Close the fucking door before you let all the cool air out,” Leon grumbles from behind them. His basketball shorts, the only thing he’s wearing, are hanging so low on his hips that Connor can see the cut of his muscles at the hipbone, and he kind of wants to bite it. 

“Can’t,” Dylan giggles. “Davo’s standing in it.”

Connor rolls his eyes at that because it’s exactly like Dylan to try and start shit. He takes one big step so that he’s inside the door. Dylan lets it bang shut behind them. 

“I think I was promised some fun,” Connor returns. “And so far all I’ve gotten is mockery.”

“Poor baby,” Dylan coos, grabbing Connor’s arm, probably with more force than he intended, and dragging him towards their bedroom. “Let me make it up to you.”

Leon clears his throat meaningfully. 

“Let us make it up to you,” Dylan corrects without missing a beat. 

And if there’s one thing that Connor knows about both his boys, it’s that they rise to a challenge. “You think you can?” he asks with a smirk.

“Oh just watch me,” Dylan replies, his eyes alight with the challenge. 

Connor’s about to say something in response to that when he finds himself being lifted up and back, the smell of Leon’s cologne filling his nostrils. Connor always forgets just how strong Leon is until he’s watching him muscle someone off the puck or getting picked up.

“Lead the way,” Leon says over his shoulder to Dylan, so apparently he’s not planning on putting Connor down any time soon. Connor shouldn’t find that as hot as he does.

Dylan just grins and heads back towards their bedroom. Connor can’t wait to see what he comes up with.

~

Connor’s eager to get his second year started when he stumbles into the Erie locker room with all the confidence of a sixteen-year-old boy. He’s not alone because the rookies are already there, and someone is sitting in his stall. 

It’s not like his name is on it, so Connor’s prepared to be reasonable about it. By which he means, he’ll be nice when he tells the kid to get the fuck out of his stall. And then the kid looks up and Connor’s entire brain stutters to a halt. He’s glad he’s got his gear bag in front of him because he’s pretty sure he’s half-hard just from meeting this kid’s eyes.

“Hi, I’m Dylan Strome,” the kid—only not really because he’s the same age as Connor—says, holding out his hand. 

“I know,” Connor says, standing there like a complete moron. It’s only after it’s become awkward that he reaches out to shake the proffered hand. “Connor McDavid.”

Dylan rolls his eyes at that. “I know,” he returns, and Connor knows in that instant that he’d do anything for this kid. 

And then Coach is there, smiling when he sees Connor and saying something about how he should have expected Connor to beat him in. Connor settles down in the stall next to Dylan’s—call me Stromer—and starts unpacking his shit. Thankfully, none of the guys Connor played with last year even blink when they see the new arrangement, slotting themselves in about the room.

Practice is good; Connor can see where some of the new rookies are going to fit into the team, and he can barely take his eyes off Dylan, who is just so, so good. A couple of the guys tease him about making a friend like a real boy, and a couple more tease him about having a crush, but Connor lets it all slide off him. 

Deep down in his bones, Connor knows that this team is special, that they’re going to do great things. 

“Davo,” Dylan calls from where he’s leaning against the boards, waiting for his turn at the next drill. “You lived here last year.”

“Yeah?” Connor says because that’s pretty common knowledge. 

“So you know all the best places to go already. Where’s the best place to go for food?” Dylan grins at him, mouthguard hanging out of the corner of his mouth. 

“My billet mom’s?” Connor says because he can’t think of anything else with Dylan grinning at him like that.

Dylan laughs like it’s some sort of great joke. “Second best place then,” he says. Connor manages to stutter out the name of a restaurant his parents took him to when he first moved down here. It’s nicer than most of the fast food places, nice enough that a lot of the guys use it as their go-to date spot.

Dylan just grins at him. “All right,” he says. “You, me, after practice. You can tell me everything there is to know about this team.”

Connor finds himself nodding before he’s even really thought about it, swept up in Dylan’s everything. 

~

Connor’s always the last one to wake up in the mornings. It’s not exactly a secret that he’s not a morning person, that he’s never been a morning person, and that he’ll never be a morning person. Both Dylan and Leon have been responsible for making sure he’s on the bus on time before.

So Connor’s not surprised when he wakes up the next morning to the sound of rain hitting the windows and an empty bed. He drags himself out from under the covers to find both Dylan and Leon in their cabin’s small living room. Dylan’s watching something on his phone while Leon reads a book that looks like it’s in German.

“What time ‘sit?” Connor asks.

“Just after ten,” Dylan responds, not bothering to look up from his phone. “Marns says hi.”

“Say hi back for me,” Connor returns automatically. 

“There’s coffee,” Leon says, and Connor notices the cup sitting at his elbow.

“Who made it though?” he asks, suspicious. Leon makes his coffee strong enough that Connor swears it takes some effort to stir it. 

“Drai did,” Dylan says, and Connor can read the betrayal in his eyes. “I remade it so that normal people could drink it.”

Leon mutters something under his breath in German, probably about people unable to drink the diesel fuel he calls coffee.

“Thanks,” Connor mumbles and shuffles his way to the kitchen to get a cup of Dylan’s coffee. 

Connor settles next to Leon on the sofa, coffee cup cradled in his hands. He tries to peer over Leon’s shoulder to see what he’s reading, but it’s in German like he thought. 

“Supposed to rain for most of the day,” Dylan says after a moment. “Looks like we might get a nice sunset though.”

Connor stretches against Leon, remembering last night’s sunset all too well. “That’s good,” he says. 

“Netflix and chill then?” Dylan says with a grin.

Leon folds the corner of the page he’s reading over and closes his book. “Whose pick is it?”

Which actually leads to quite the discussion since Connor and Leon usually alternate picks—and Connor has been forced to watch so much German shit because of this—while Dylan usually picks when it’s the two of them. 

Eventually, Dylan and Leon agree on some Netflix original series about serial murders, which seems pretty fucking gruesome to Connor, but he’s not in charge of the remote. 

Also, it turns out that three hockey players don’t fit all that well on one normal-sized couch, and Connor ends up exiled to the chair the second time he complains about someone elbowing him.

“How am I the one getting sent to the box?” he mumbles, settling into the chair with exactly zero grace.

Of course both Dylan and Leon find this absolutely hilarious, which doesn’t improve his mood any. Two-and-a-bit episodes about Ted Bundy later, Connor shuffles his way to the kitchen to see what they have to eat.

He ends up making himself a sandwich because most of the stuff they have is for grilling and Connor’s not going out in the rain if he can help it, and by the time he’s finished, Dylan is crowding him up against the counter like they’re fighting for the puck in the corner.

“No,” Connor grumbles when Dylan tries to go around him and steal half his sandwich. “This is mine. Make your damn own.”

Dylan pouts but Connor remains unmoved. He takes his sandwich back to his chair. Dylan returns a moment later with his own sandwich, and Leon restarts the serial killer thing. Connor pretty much zones out, going over plays for next year in his head, so he’s startled when a balled-up napkin hits him in the face.

“Are you even watching this?” Dylan demands.

“Ummm, no,” Connor replies because there’s no use lying. He couldn’t actually say one thing that’s happened in the last hour. “You know I hate this serial killer shit.”

Leon chuckles at that. “Come over here then. Netflix and chill, after all.”

“Oh, is my penalty over?” Connor demands, which promptly leads to a wrestling match where Connor ends up pinned in short order by both his boyfriends.

“Still not any better at fighting, I see,” Dylan crows.

“First of all, fuck you,” Connor grumbles. “Two-on-one isn’t fair. Secondly, I have so gotten a lot better.”

Leon makes a disparaging noise at that.

“Fuck you too,” Connor grumbles, but he doesn’t fight against the hands holding him down.

Dylan leans down to kiss him then and as soon as he pulls back, Leon is there, all consuming. 

The floor might not be the most comfortable of places, but after a couple of minutes, Connor stops noticing.

~

The first time Connor meets Leon, he’s so nervous that his hands are damp with sweat. It feels like the weight of an entire franchise on his shoulders, which Connor knows is not the case, but it definitely feels like it. 

The only consolation he has is that Buffalo wouldn’t have been any better. 

Connor already knows who almost everyone on the team is, so he recognizes Leon when the German approaches him in the locker room. “Welcome to the team,” Leon says. “We’re happy to have you.”

“Happy to be here,” Connor returns by rote.

“No, you’re not,” Leon says. “But give it a chance. We might surprise you.”

Connor can’t help but smile a little at that. “I think you already have.”

And then Connor gets on the ice with him, and he can’t help but be blown away by just how _good_ Leon is. 

He hasn’t been this blown away since he first stepped out on the ice with Dylan, and isn’t that something to think about?

He tries not think about it too much during drills because thinking about Dylan leads to thinking about sex, and the last thing he needs is to be thinking about sex and Dylan and Leon on the ice. 

As soon as they’re done, Connor makes his way back to the hotel, brushing off some of the other guys’ offers to hang out. Connor hopes he doesn’t come off as too anti-social, but he really needs to talk to Dyls.

He ends up sending Dylan an invitation to Facetime almost as soon as the door to his blessed single hotel room closes. 

“What’s up?” Dylan says when he accepts the invitation. He’s still wet from the shower, so practice must have finished not too long ago in Phoenix.

“So remember when you said that we should also be able to see other people, and I was like that’s crazy?” Connor begins. “And then you brought out all your websites about polyamory, and I told you it sounded like you wanted to break up, and then you read the definition out loud to me and said that seeing other people didn’t mean that our relationship had to end, and it could make it better?”

In fact, it had been a lot more complicated than that. They’d had a lot of discussions about it in their last few weeks in Erie. Dylan had been convinced that would work from the outset, despite the fact Connor’s not good at sharing the people he loves, and Dylan can be strange about protecting Connor.

It had, however, seemed like a better idea than breaking up, and Connor couldn’t imagine ever actually suggesting it.

Now, though, now he can see it. Does see it.

“Yeees?” Dylan returns, settling down on the hotel bed. “Can we hurry this up because as much as I love you, my roommate is going to be back soon.”

“Okay, so you’ve seen Leon Draisaitl, right?” Connor tries again.

Dylan starts tapping away at his phone. “Okay,” he says in a tone that tells Connor that he’s definitely looking Leon up on his phone at this very second. “Not bad.”

Connor can’t deny that. “And he’s so _good_ on the puck.”

Dylan laughs a little at that. “And his hockey makes you hot,” he surmises. “So is he waiting in the bathroom or something?”

“Of course not!” Connor grumbles. “I would never do that to you. I don’t even know if he’s interested yet.”

Dylan rolls his eyes at that. “You’re Connor McJesus, the Next Great One. Of course he’s interested. What are you going to do?”

Connor shrugs, suddenly acutely uncomfortable with this conversation. “I don’t know. If he’s interested in guys or in me…”

“He probably is,” Dylan interrupts.

“And willing to risk team chemistry with a possible hook-up,” Connor continues as if Dylan hadn’t spoken. 

“He will be,” Dylan says, rolling his eyes as if Connor’s objections are foolish.

“Even then he might not be willing to enter into a relationship like this one. You have to admit it’s not exactly normal.”

“Babe,” Dylan says, sensing that he needs to be serious here, “if your possible away boyfriend can’t accept your home boyfriend, he doesn’t deserve to be your away boyfriend.”

“You’re the best home boyfriend ever,” Connor says.

“You bet your ass,” Dylan agrees, and then pauses. Connor can hear a door opening in the background. “My roommate is back, so I’m gonna have to let you go.”

“Talk to you soon,” Connor says.

“Tell me how it goes,” Dylan commands because at heart he’s a nosy gossip. 

“Go and get ‘em, Dyls,” Connor says.

“You too, Davo,” Dylan agrees. Looking at Dylan’s dirty grin, Connor’s pretty sure they’re not talking about the same things at all. 

~

It does end up clearing up in the evening, and they go outside to grill and drink. Connor and Dylan both drink beer, but Leon’s too much of a beer snob to drink the beer Dylan brought: Connor is the first to admit that Dylan does not have the most refined palate when it comes to beer, so it’s mostly Bud and Bud Light and, ever since Dyls got traded to Chicago, Goose Island.

Thankfully, Dylan also bought a bunch of rum and coke, so Leon’s drinking that.

“How much longer until the food’s ready?” Connor asks from his chair.

“Soon, I hope,” Dylan grumbles. “I’m starving.”

Leon gives them both the finger from the grill.

“Seriously though,” Connor says after a moment, taking another pull from his beer. “Is it nearly done?”

“Just drink your shitty beer and wait,” Leon says, a little but of edge creeping into his voice. Connor knows better than to keep pushing, so he salutes Leon with his beer bottle and goes back to staring at the lake.

“So what’s the best thing about Edmonton?” Dylan says after a moment full of the sound of the lake and sizzling meat.

“That it’s not Prince Albert,” Leon replies immediately. 

“Our fans are really passionate,” Connor begins, only to be interrupted by two incredulous laughs.

“Half our fans are assholes,” Leon says, motioning for someone to hand him a plate. Connor gets up and brings one over.

“Half our fans are assholes,” he agrees. “But they’re passionate assholes.” He watches Leon pile steaks and baked potatoes on the plate and barely stops himself from drooling.

“Don’t give me some bullshit media answer, Davo,” Dylan scolds, waving his beer bottle in Connor’s general direction. 

Connor shrugs. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Dyls. It’s not an easy place to play, but if they love you, they love you with everything.”

“And they love Davo,” Leon says. “Now let’s go eat.”

Connor and his plate head into the cabin, and for a little while all they talk about is the food. 

Connor finishes his first beer and half of his second before he follows Dylan into the kitchen to help with the dishes. “He’s different than I thought he’d be, you know?” Dylan says, handing him a plate to dry.

“Oh?” Connor mumbles. He knows Dylan, so he’s not exactly surprised. 

“He’s a little bit harder than I thought, less sweet, I guess. It’s not a bad thing,” Dylan rushes to assure him. “It’s just… not what I thought you would go for.”

Connor shrugs. “Maybe three years ago, I wouldn’t have,” he agrees. “But he can be sweet too. And sometimes I need that. Edmonton’s not always easy, and he’s there, Dyls. He understands.”

“I like him, Davo,” Dylan says, his tone conciliatory. “And not just because he can rock the ginger stubble better than any man has a right to.”

“I know, right?” Connor chuckles as he finishes drying the last of the silverware.

They rejoin Leon outside, where he’s lit all their citronella candles in what’s probably a vain attempt to keep the mosquitos away.

Dylan grabs another beer for himself and then holds one out to Connor, who takes it before settling down on Leon’s lap. Leon adjusts his stance slightly to better support Connor, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. He’s pretty used to Connor being handsy after a few drinks or a good win.

“So, what about you?” Leon says.

“Me what?” Dylan asks, taking a long pull from his beer. Connor watches his throat work as he swallows and _wants_.

“What’s the best part of being in Chicago?”

Dylan doesn’t even think for a second. “It’s not Phoenix.”

Leon salutes Dylan with his glass. Connor settles his head against Leon’s shoulder and just breathes in this perfect moment.

~

Connor spends the rest of rookie camp and most of training camp trying to figure out exactly how to approach Leon, and then he ends up with even more time he doesn’t want when Leon gets sent down to the farm. 

Leon tries not to let it show how much it bothers him, but Connor can see that he’s not happy about it.

“You’ll be back before you know it,” Connor says, perched awkwardly on the bed in Leon’s hotel room. His own stuff is already packed for his move to Hallsy’s.

Leon says something back to him in German; it sounds harsh and unforgiving and Connor still finds it more than a little bit hot.

“Look, I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me, but you belong up here, and they’re going to see that in no time. Until then, you’ll just have to kill it in Bakersfield, so they don’t have any choice.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Captain,” Leon grits out, marching into the bathroom to grab his toiletries. Connor tries to hide his hurt, but he must not be entirely successful because when he comes back, Leon takes one look at him and sighs.

“Look,” he says. “I’m not… good at shit like this. I never have been. I guess I didn’t lose enough as a child, or so my sister says. I do appreciate what you’re trying to do. I’m just pissed.” He pauses for a second. “And you’re wrong,” he says after a second. “Your words mean a lot.”

Connor can’t help the blush that rises at that. “Now you just sound like Dyls,” he mumbles and then adds, “Dylan Strome,” at Leon’s questioning eyebrow. “I played with him in Erie,” he adds after a second, in case Leon isn’t familiar with the name.

“I know who he is,” Leon says. “Third overall to Phoenix.”

Connor nods because of course that’s how Leon would know him. “He’s my best friend. He makes me a better player every second I’m on the ice with him, and he says I do the same for him.”

“You’re in love with him,” Leon says with no little amount of surprise, and then stops dead. “I mean…”

“Yeah,” Connor agrees, cutting through Leon’s attempts to reframe the statement into something not quite so _gay_ ruthlessly. “Pretty much.”

Leon’s quiet for a moment. “Does he know?”

Which, of all the questions Connor expected to get, that was not one of them. He can’t stop the smile that he can feel turning up the corners of his mouth, doesn’t really want to. “Yeah,” he agrees. “He knows.” 

Leon looks him over for a moment. “I’m happy for you then,” he says. “It’s hard. Doesn’t always work out.” And Connor can tell from the forced lightness of his tone that Leon’s speaking from personal experience.

“Yeah,” Connor agrees. “It’s hard. Dyls and I, we’ve got a plan, and it helps that he’s not the jealous type.” Connor’s practiced explaining to Leon half a dozen times in front of his hotel, and he still ends up stuttering and blushing.

Leon clearly doesn’t know what to make of that if the confused and slightly constipated look on his face is any indication.

“Look,” Connor says with a sigh. “It’s not for everyone, okay? I get it. Lots of people would judge him and me, and maybe it’s not going to work, but we’ve gotta try. And besides, there’s lots of material out there about polyamorous relationships, and it works for a lot of people…”

Connor’s cut off by Leon grabbing him and kissing him almost violently, a fierce battle of teeth and tongues that it only takes Connor a moment to get on board with. 

“What was that?” Connor asks when Leon pulls back.

There’s a heat in Leon’s eyes that Connor’s never seen before. “A promise.”

~

The next morning, they all drag themselves out at the crack of dawn to go fishing. Connor’s not a big fan of mornings or of fishing, but both Dylan and Leon seem excited about it, so he tries not to complain too much.

Which mostly involves slumping down in his seat and watching a fishing line that’s practically mocking him.

“I hate this,” Connor grumbles when an outright eternity has passed.

“Quit your bitching,” Dylan returns. “You’re scaring away all the fish.”

“What fish?” 

“Shhh,” Leon mumbles, reaching blearily for his travel mug full of coffee.

So Connor sits in silence and sulks while both of his boyfriends apparently enjoy staring at the undisturbed water of the lake while waiting for fish to appear. He plays with his phone for a while, but the reception is terrible on the lake, and he’s spent the last couple of weeks stuck on one level of Two Dots, so he ends up pocketing his phone and staring out at the water for a while. 

Connor really, really hates fishing.

Eventually, they head back to shore, distinctly lacking in any sort of fish. Instead of being upset about this revelation, they both seem ecstatic.

“I hate fishing,” Connor grumbles again as he gets off the boat. “All that time where we could be been sleeping wasted out in the cold on a boat getting eaten alive by bugs, and it’s not even like we have anything to show for it.”

“All you would have been doing was sleeping, Davo,” Dylan teases.

“Yeah, in my warm bed,” Connor grumbles. “Pretty sure there are better ways to wake up than to an alarm before the sun comes up.”

Dylan’s got nothing to say in response to that, no doubt imagining some of those better ways. 

Leon merely laughs at that, like he thinks missing out on possible morning bjs is funny or something. “Davo,” he says, “there’s no way anyone’s getting sex out of your lazy ass in the morning if we go fishing or we don’t.”

Dylan’s smirk seems to indicate that he agrees with Leon. He can practically see Dylan tallying the point in Leon’s favour. 

“I hate you both,” Connor grumbles because he can’t think of anything else to say.

“Sure you do, bud,” Dylan agrees. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Fish,” Connor snipes because he’s not feeling very charitable.

Dylan makes a faux wounded face, and Leon laughs. “I think we’ve still got some salmon,” he says.

The salmon’s really more of a dinner thing, and they all know it. Connor ends up making sandwiches again before he goes out for a run. Dylan comes with him and bitches the entire time about how much he hates running. Connor’s not really a fan either, but he’s still a professional athlete, and he can’t quite comprehend doing nothing, even if he is on vacation with orders from his trainer to take it easy.

Connor runs until his legs burn, and Dylan’s bitching and out of breath behind him. They end up walking back to their cabin, taking small sips of Gatorade and catching up on the gossip about guys they used to play with.

Leon’s sleeping on one of the Adirondack chairs in front of their rental when they get back, his shorts stretched tight across his thighs. Connor feels his mouth go dry.

“Damn,” is all Dylan says with an appreciative whistle. Connor knows the feeling. 

“You wanna wake him up?” Connor asks. “I’m gonna go grab a shower.”

Dylan takes a second to contemplate that, obviously weighing the pros waking up Leon, who’s usually pretty affectionate, against the cons of missing out on getting his hands all over Connor in the shower.

“I hate you,” Dylan grumbles, looking honestly pained. He pulls Connor in for a quick kiss. “Shower quick,” he commands, heading over to Leon and straddling his lap. 

Connor hurries into their cabin, practically bolting for the shower. He doesn’t even wait for the water to warm up before stepping under the spray. 

“Fuck,” he swears when the water first hits his skin, but it does cool his ardour enough that he can think. 

By the time he gets out of the shower, throwing on a pair of basketball shorts and nothing else, Dylan and Leon are basically fucking with their clothes on out on the porch. Leon’s fingers are wrapped in the hair at the nape of Dylan’s neck, keeping him close. Dylan’s grinding down against Leon’s lap languidly. They’re so wrapped in one another that neither of them notices when Connor comes to stand right next to them.

“We should probably move this inside,” Connor says and can’t help laughing when Dylan jumps a little bit. Dylan turns to glare at him but stops dead when he gets a look at Connor.

“Yeah,” Dylan agrees, licking his lips. “We should do that.” He’s graceless, almost coltish, and he climbs off of Leon’s lap, his erection clearly visible through the soft material of his work-out shorts. Leon takes a moment before he rises from the chair, the outline of his dick also clearly visible through his shorts. 

The look Leon gives them is practically burning. He heads straight for their bedroom without another word, stripping off clothing as he goes. 

“Jesus Christ,” Dylan swears breathlessly.

“Just wait until you wake up with beard burn on your thighs,” Connor says with feeling because Leon ate him out until he cried over bye week, and it’s not something he’s going to forget any time soon.

Dylan groans then, an animalistic thing that sounds like it’s being wrenched from his chest. “God damn it, Davo. Why’d you have to say shit like that?”

Connor just shrugs. “Think of it as motivation.”

~

Connor’s not really nervous about Leon and Dylan meeting because, as Dylan is quick to point out, everyone knows everyone else, at least in passing, in professional hockey. Now that Dylan’s finally made the Show, he’s even playing with some of Leon’s old teammates.

It’s just that in almost two years he’s never had to introduce his boyfriends to each other before, and he thinks a freak-out could be justified if, in fact, he were freaking out. Which he’s not. But if he were…

“Calm the fuck down, Davo,” Leon says, the third time Connor tears an admittedly perfectly good tape job off his stick. “The guys are starting to notice something’s wrong.”

And yeah, Nuge’s giving him a bit of side-eye, but he hasn’t progressed to actually saying anything. On the other hand, if Nuge’s noticed, that means Ebs has definitely noticed, and he should probably chill. He is the captain now, after all. 

“Yeah,” Connor agrees, ripping the tape off and starting again. 

Leon rolls his eyes, mutters something about idiots, and wanders off. Nuge taps the blade of his stick against Connor’s shins and leaves him to it, which Connor appreciates.

The game itself is nothing special. Neither the Oilers nor the Coyotes are very good, and the game is a little sloppy and a lot chippy because of it. Connor gets slashed, and Leon ends up serving two in the box for a bullshit cross-checking penalty. He comes out of the box stewing but thankfully channels it into a goal and an assist and first star of the night.

“Show off,” Connor mumbles as Leon goes out to take his bow. 

“Where’s Strome meeting us?” Leon asks when he comes back, fresh-faced and grinning. 

“I’ve gotta go grab him from their locker room,” Connor replies. 

“Do it quick,” Leon growls.

“Not what you were saying last night,” Connor chirps, which gets him a muttered German exclamation and a shove towards the showers from Leon.

Connor goes because there’s nothing to be gained from delaying. Dylan’s waiting for him outside the Coyotes locker room, freshly showered and looking cool as hell.

“Hey, Davo,” Dylan says.

“Hey, Dyls,” Connor replies. They stare at each other for all thirty seconds before Dylan bursts into laughter. 

“So, on a scale of 1 to 10, how wound are you right now?” Dylan asks, pushing away from the wall.

Connor shrugs. “I’d say like an 8,” he admits.

“And Draisaitl?”

Connor shrugs. “Probably like a 15,” he mutters.

Dylan laughs again. “I think I’m gonna like him,” he says.

“You’ve met him before,” Connor protests because Dylan was there last summer when he Skyped with Leon a couple times. Besides, as both Leon and Dylan are quick to point out, they know a lot of the same people. The hockey world is a small one.

“Yeah,” Dylan agrees. “But this is different.”

Connor can’t deny that.

Neither, it seems, can Leon. He’s standing outside their locker room, leaning against the wall in the sort of forced casual pose that isn’t fooling anyone.

“Hey man, good to meet you finally,” Dylan says, holding his hand out for Leon to shake.

“You too,” Leon says, taking the hand and shaking. It seems ridiculously formal to Connor, but he bites his tongue, at least until they start awkwardly complimenting each other on their play.

“My place?” Connor asks, which doesn’t do anything dispel the awkward tension but does give them all something else to focus on.

“I’ll take my car,” Leon says after a moment. “Meet you there.”

“Curfew’s midnight,” Dylan says after a moment, “but there’s a couple of guys who will cover for me as long as I’m back before team breakfast tomorrow.”

It’s not ideal, but Connor’s well-versed in taking what he can get. Dylan follows him out to his car, keeping up a steady stream of gossip about their old teammates, Dylan’s new teammates, and his brothers.

“He’s hotter in person than I thought he’d be,” Dylan says apropos of nothing just after Connor’s finished making agreeable noises about Matthew’s chances of a strong OHL season with Hamilton.

“Who?” Connor asks because his mind is still on Matthew.

Dylan gives him a look like he’s worried about Connor’s mental state. “Draisaitl,” he says. “You know, the other guy you’re fucking?”

Connor can’t quite hide his blush at that.

“Or who’s fucking you,” Dylan adds with a sly grin. 

Dylan’s always known him too fucking well.

“What do you want to order for food?” Connor asks, hoping like hell that Dylan will accept the subject change. 

“Steak,” Dylan says immediately. “Expensive steak.”

Connor nods towards his phone. “Text Leon and tell him what you want.”

Dylan doesn’t even bother pretending he doesn’t know Connor’s passcode. He scrolls through Connor’s texts until he finds his thread with Leon. He spends several minutes scrolling through the thread before he types something out and hits send. 

A second later, Dylan’s phone pings with an incoming text, and Connor watches him shimmy it out of his pants pocket out of the corner of his eye. He spends the rest of the ride to Connor’s new place pretty much absorbed in his phone, only looking up when Connor pulls to a stop in the driveway.

Dylan whistles in that meant-to-be obnoxious way that people do. “It’s fucking huge,” he says.

Connor shrugs. “It’s got four bedrooms,” he says because he doesn’t know what else to say. He bought the house this summer because it made sense with Hallsy gone, but he sort of hates living alone. Thankfully, Leon and Nursey and Cags and Benny are all over pretty often, so it doesn’t feel so empty.

Leon’s car is already parked on the street, and Connor can see that the kitchen light is on. 

“He’s got a key,” Dylan says, and he sounds almost wistful. Connor’s never heard that particular tone before, but he doesn’t like it.

“I’ve got one for you too,” he mutters, unlocking the doors. “It’s in the house.”

“Oh,” Dylan mumbles, blushing a little. “I didn’t…” he trails off. Connor gives it a minute, but it doesn’t seem like Dylan’s going to finish his sentence. 

Connor lets it go because Dylan is one of the most stubborn people he knows, and that’s saying something because Connor knows a lot of stubborn people. Hell, most people would say Connor is one of those stubborn people. He gets out of the car and heads towards his own front door. After a second, he can hear the car door slam as Dylan follows him.

“Food should be here in 20,” Leon says as Connor pushes the front door open. Leon’s changed from his game-day suit into an old, washed Prince Albert Raiders tee and a pair of sweats. Normally, Connor loves seeing him look so at-home, but right now he’s worried about how Dylan’s going to react. 

“Thanks,” Connor mumbles. “I’m gonna go change. You want a pair of sweats, Dyls?” he asks. 

“Sure,” Dylan says and follows Connor up the stairs to his bedroom without another word. 

“Here,” Connor says, digging out some of his old Erie sweats. “Unless you want some Oilers ones,” he adds after a second. “They might fit better.”

The face Dylan makes at the suggestion is priceless. “No thanks,” he grumbles. “I’d rather wear the logo of a team I actually played for. Besides, your colours are garbage.”

Connor just shrugs and pulls on a pair of navy-blue Oilers sweats with his number on the hip. He tosses Dylan a Bauer t-shirt and grabs one for himself.

Downstairs, he can hear Leon answering the door and paying for their food. 

“Sorry,” Dylan says, apropos of nothing, “if I’m being weird. This is just… sort of weird. Like I knew you were sleeping with him, but I guess the rest of it shocked me a little. I get you like 3 months of the year, and he gets you the rest, and it worked because I could convince myself that I had more of you. But I don’t, not really, and I don’t know exactly how I feel about it.”

He pauses. “I like him though. I like the way he looks at you, and I like the way that he fits into your life. I just can’t help being a little jealous though. I’ll get over it.”

Connor doesn’t know quite what to say to that. It’s honest and a lot rawer than he was expecting. “I don’t… I haven’t given it a lot of thought, how we all fit together. Nothing I have with Leon affects what I have with you. Or anything you might have with each other,” Connor adds after a second of hesitation because it’s something Leon’s mentioned in passing, but he hasn’t really talked to Dylan about it much.

“And you’d be okay with that?” Dylan asks. “Because you’re pretty… you,” Dylan finishes after a moment of hesitation.

“A jealous, petty fuck who doesn’t share well with others,” Connor agrees because he knows himself well enough to know it’s true.

“Yeah, but at least you’re pretty,” Dylan says with a grin. 

Connor grins back at him. 

“Did you two kill each other up there?” Leon calls up the stairs. “Because if you did, I’m eating your food.”

Connor has never been so thankful for an interruption in his life, and that includes when Cam walked in on his mom trying to give him the safe sex speech before his first trip to Erie.

“He will too,” Connor says, dragging Dylan towards the door. “We can finish this after dinner, Dyls. No one’s saying we have to have all the answers right now.”

~

Leon’s already naked by the time Connor makes it to the bedroom of their rented cabin. Dylan’s stripping with the practiced efficiency of a professional athlete. Connor takes a moment to appreciate just how fucking fine both of his boyfriends are.

“Are you gonna start taking your clothes off any time soon or nah?” Leon asks, limbs askew, dick already half hard.

“Just getting a good look at the merchandise,” Connor replies, pulling his t-shirt over his head with practiced ease. He shucks his shorts without a second thought, which leaves him standing in only his underwear. Dylan climbs onto the bed and leans down to kiss Leon. They’re still a little awkward, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s quite possibly the hottest thing Connor’s ever seen in his life. 

Dylan whispers something to Leon that Connor can’t hear when he pulls back, and they both turn to look at him. Connor feels a little self-conscious, but it has not affect whatsoever on his erection. He’s stupid in love with both of these idiots.

Honestly, Connor makes terrible life decisions. 

“Get over here,” Dylan demands, his eyes practically devouring Connor as he ambles over to the bed and settles with his back against the headboard. He ends up with Dylan in his lap in short order, kissing along his neck like a starving man. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Dylan mumbles against his collarbone. “I wanna fuck you.”

“Thought you wanted Leon to eat you out,” Connor says, loud enough for Leon to hear.

“We can do both,” Leon says, tone smug. Connor’s stuck between wanting to flip Leon off and kiss him senseless. “It’s not an either-or sort of situation.”

And yeah, Connor’s down for that just as long as he gets to see Dylan come apart under Leon’s oh so capable tongue first. If the noise Dylan makes against his collarbone is any indication, he’s definitely on board as well.

Dylan climbs off corner and heads towards the bathroom, which Connor might admit the necessity, but he misses the heat and weight of Dylan’s body against his own.

It takes a few minutes to rearrange everyone so that they’re all comfortable on the bed. It might be a California King, but it’s still barely big enough for three grown hockey players.

Dylan ends up on his stomach with his head resting on Connor’s thigh. Leon’s kneeling between his spread thighs, running his hands from Dylan’s shoulders to the tops of his thighs, paying special attention to his ass. 

“Pretty, pretty,” Leon croons, and then adds something in German that Connor doesn’t understand but sounds really nice. “Grab his hands,” Leon says, looking up at Connor. 

Connor nods and licks his lips before wrapping his hands around Dylan’s wrists. 

“You ready?” Leon asks, tapping Dylan’s thigh to get his attention when he doesn’t respond immediately. 

“Fuck yes,” Dylan groans. “What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?” 

Leon doesn’t bother saying anything, just uses both his hands to spread Dylan’s ass and bury his face between his cheeks. Dylan makes a noise like he’s taken a hard hit, pulling against Connor’s grip. 

Leon pulls back far enough to meet Connor’s eyes over the curve of Dylan’s ass, unsure.

“It’s good, it’s fine,” Connor assures him because Leon doesn’t know Dylan’s sex noises like Connor does, but he’s learning quickly.

Connor can’t say he regrets it when he gets to see things like this.

“If you stop,” Dylan grits out, voice harsh, “I’m going to kill you.”

Connor cocks an eyebrow at Leon, a silent challenge that Leon is only too willing to pick up if his answering grin is any indication.

And the thing is, Connor’s never been much of a fan of eating ass, so it’s not something he’d ever really done until Leon. And well, Connor’s still not much of a fan of eating ass, but he’s definitely developed an appreciation for being on the receiving end. And by the looks of it, Dylan’s quickly developing his own appreciation for Leon’s oral talents.

Dylan’s never really been good at staying still though, so Connor’s not that surprised when he starts squirming. Leon doesn’t even pause, just grabs Dylan’s hips with both his hands and forces him to be still. If the punched-out noise Dylan makes at that is any indication, that’s something Connor’s going to have to think about later, but right now it’s just hot as fuck.

Connor’s not sure how long they stay like that, Dylan suspended between the two of them, moaning against Connor’s thigh and trying to push back against Leon’s mouth.

Eventually though, Connor can tell Dylan’s had enough, muscles strung tight and unable to catch his breath.

Leon can tell too because he pulls back before Connor can say anything, placing one final kiss on Dylan’s tailbone. Dylan pulls back from where he’s pressed up against Connor’s thigh after a moment, and Connor’s pretty sure he sees tear tracks on Dylan’s face before he scrubs a hand over it. He looks completely fucking wrecked, and Connor loves it.

“Fuck,” he swears.

“Come here, Leibe,” Leon says, motioning to Connor. “We’ll let Dylan find his brain and get you ready for his dick.”

And this is a plan Connor can very much get behind. Leon’s always been very conscientious about getting him ready, and today is no exception. By the time he’s got three fingers in, Dylan’s back with them and practically licking his lips. 

“Come here,” Dylan demands when Leon finally pulls away. There’s an almost desperate hunger in his eyes that Connor’s rarely seen before.

Connor goes.

Connor’s known Dylan a long time, has known pretty much every erogenous zone Dylan has since they were 17 and fooling around in his billets’ basement back in Erie. Connor would have said that there was nothing Dylan could do to surprise him at this point, but it would have been a lie.

Because in this minute, Dylan’s surprising the hell out of him. He leans back against the headboard and settles Connor in his lap. Connor can’t help but gasp as he sinks down on Dylan’s dick inch by torturous inch until he’s fully seated. Behind him, he can hear Leon bite out a German curse.

“Ride me,” Dylan commands, and Connor’s helpless to disobey. Dylan’s hands end up on his ass, but Connor’s the one controlling the pace of this. He’s gonna have to send Gary a thank-you note for making him do all those squats during training because it’s sure as fuck coming in handy now.

He leans down and presses a kiss to Dylan’s slack mouth. Dylan kisses him back, sloppy and uncoordinated. Somewhere behind them, Leon swears again.

“‘m not gonna last much longer, Davo,” Dylan pants out an indeterminate amount of time later. It’s probably a good thing because Connor knows that he’s going to be feeling this in his thighs tomorrow as it is.

“Come on then,” he mumbles. “Do it.”

That seems to be all the encouragement that Dylan needs. His hands slide up to Connor’s hips and change the rhythm they’ve got going from a dirty grind into something faster and harder and full of intention. Connor may well have bruises from the strength of Dylan’s grip tomorrow, and he doesn’t care. 

Dylan comes with a grunt, eyes screwed shut. His orgasm face is so fucking stupid, and Connor loves him so much.

He doesn’t have the words to articulate any of that, however, because Leon is there with the reach around all of a sudden. It takes about half a dozen strokes, just the right side of too hard, for Connor to shoot all over both him and Dylan.

“Ugh,” Dylan grumbles. “Shower.”

“Later,” Connor mumbles, mostly because he’s unsure if he has the strength to climb off of Dylan’s lap at the moment, even though Dylan’s dick’s gone soft.

Behind them, Leon chuckles. Which probably makes him a terrible boyfriend because he’s pretty sure Leon hasn’t come yet.

He must mumble at least some of that out loud because Leon says, “Just… stay there,” and a couple of minutes later, he feels something warm hit his back and ass. Which, undeniably gross, but also pretty fucking hot.

Dylan must think so too because he pushes Connor off his lap. “Shower,” he commands. 

“Hate you,” Connor grumbles.

“You’ll hate sleeping in the wet spot even more,” Dylan responds sweetly.

“Make you,” Connor grumbles nonsensically.

“Babe, you _are_ the wet spot,” Dylan laughs. Connor flips him off on the way the bathroom.

He showers quickly, too tired for anything but the most perfunctory of washes, and heads back into the bedroom, armed with a washcloth and secure in the knowledge that Dylan will have already fallen asleep.

Leon’s playing on his phone, and he looks up when Connor appears. Dylan is, of course, asleep.

Connor throws the wet washcloth onto Dylan’s stomach, and it lands with a wet smacking sound that startles Dylan awake.

“Asshole,” he mumbles.

“You’re lucky I like you enough to bring you a fucking cloth,” Connor returns, pretty much forcing his way in between them. Leon grins at him and sets his phone down to use the washroom himself.

“And brush your teeth,” Connor calls after him because no way he’s kissing Leon knowing where his mouth’s been otherwise.

Leon calls back with something Connor can’t make out, but probably isn’t very complimentary. 

By the time Leon gets back, his breath smelling of mint, Dylan’s made an effort to wipe up the come drying on his chest, and Connor’s halfway asleep.

“We should try fishing again tomorrow,” Dylan says.

Leon hmms for a moment. “Weather’s supposed to be nice,” he finally says.

Connor’s pretty sure he summons the energy to flip them both off. 

~

Connor’s pretty used to going through Customs, but at the end of a trans-Atlantic flight, it just seems like cruel and unusual torture. Beside him, Dylan shuffles along like a zombie, his neck pillow resting in the crook of his arm.

Customs isn’t actually that bad. They’ve done it often enough on American flights that Connor has the routine down, and Customs is pretty much the same everywhere. The Customs agent doesn’t seem to know who he is, so Connor doesn’t have to worry about pictures of his passport photo ending up on Deadspin, which is always a plus.

Dylan meets him on the other side of the Customs. “Let’s go. Luggage is that way, I think.”

They stop at the first Starbucks they find because Connor’s flagging, and he knows enough about jetlag to know that he’s got several more hours to go before he can finally sleep. 

Leon’s waiting for them at the baggage carousel, Connor’s bags already at his feet. “I don’t know what yours look like,” he says to Dylan apologetically.

Dylan’s bags are plain black, but they manage to locate them in short order and then they’re heading out to the parking lot. “So my flat’s not huge,” Leon says, “but there’s a spare room if you want, or my room obviously.”

“ _Obviously_ ,” Dylan agrees as if it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. “What time is it here?”

Leon doesn’t answer for a second, busy unlocking his car and then tossing their bags into the trunk. It’s a tight fit, but they make it work. “Just after 2 in the afternoon,” he replies after closing the trunk with a thud. “So you’ve got a few hours before you can sleep. Is there anything in Koln you want to see?”

“Yeah,” Dylan agrees, “your bed.”

That startles a laugh out of Leon. “I think we can arrange that,” he says with smirk. Connor’s not sure if it’s the exhaustion or the jet lag or something else, but when he looks at them both, his heart just feels so full. 

The three of them, it’s isn’t easy, but it works. They’re making it work. 

And Connor wouldn’t have it any other way. 

fin.


End file.
